Slowly Judge Markham's face relaxed. Once or twice, at some particularly flagrant example of mutual distrust between the questioner and the jurors, his face almost twisted into a smile, and, at time of the evening adjournment, he looked at Perry Mason with twinkling eyes.

John Lucas was still nagging at the jurors the next morning. By eleven o'clock he finished and passed for cause. Moreover, Lucas showed a recognition of the losing battle he had been waging by excusing four of the jurors under peremptory challenges. Whereas Perry Mason not only waived his peremptory challenges, but in doing so, commented that he had "been satisfied with the jury all along."

John Lucas had a reputation for mental agility and a deep learning in the law. He had been selected by the district attorney to enter the lists against the hitherto invincible Perry Mason because of that quickness of mind. Lucas had embarked upon the battle with a grim determination that Perry Mason was not going to slip anything over on him, and this determination, so very apparent to every one in the court room, blinded the deputy district attorney to the impression he was creating upon the jurors.

Perry Mason, apparently, was trying to slip nothing over on any one. He was calm, serene and courteous, belying the reputation which had grown up about him of being a legal trickster, a juggler who could manipulate facts as a puppeteer manipulates his dummy figures. Court attaches who knew the dazzling technique of the lawyer realized that when he seemed the most innocent was the time when he would bear the closest scrutiny. But, to members of the jury, it seemed that Mason had a calm confidence in his case and his client, while the prosecution felt decidedly dubious.

The afternoon session opened with John Lucas showing the strain; with Perry Mason, suave, courteous, apparently confident that the innocence of his client would become plainly discernible from the testimony.

Officer Harry Exter was called to the stand. He testified with the belligerent emphasis of a police officer who defies counsel for the defense to try to rattle him. He was, he said, a member of the police force of the city; was one of the officers who was assigned to a radio car beat in car 62; that at two twentyeight A.M. on the morning of June 16th, he had picked up a call over the radio; that, in response to that call, he had made a quick run to the Colemont Apartments at 316 Norwalk Avenue; that he had entered the apartment and found therein a man in an unconscious condition; that he had summoned an ambulance and that the man had been removed; that, thereafter, the witness had remained in the apartment until a photographer had arrived and taken a photograph; until after fingerprint men had gone over the apartment looking for fingerprints; that no one, save the police, had entered the apartment from the time he arrived, that he had noticed a leather key container, in which were several keys, on the floor; that they lay slightly under the bed on the carpet; that he would know those keys if he saw them again.

Lucas produced a leather key container, held it toward Perry Mason, jingled the keys.

"Do you desire to inspect this, Counselor?" he asked.

Perry Mason shook his head. He seemed utterly indifferent.

The witness took the keys and identified them as the keys that he had discovered in the apartment. The keys were introduced as People's Exhibit A. The witness identified photographs of the room in which the body had been found, indicated the position of the body, and, when he had testified to various details, was turned over to Perry Mason for crossexamination.

Perry Mason raised neither his voice nor his eyes. He sat slumped in his chair, his head bowed. "There was an alarm clock in the room?" he asked in a conversational tone of voice.

"Yes."

"What became of it?"

"It was taken as evidence."

"Who took it?"

"One of the men on the homicide squad."

"Would you know the alarm clock if you saw it again?"

"Yes."

Perry Mason turned to John Lucas. "You have the alarm clock?" he asked.

"We have it," said Lucas, puzzled.

"Will you produce it?" asked Perry Mason.

"When we are ready," John Lucas said.

Perry Mason shrugged his shoulders, turned his attention once more to the witness. "Did you notice anything about this alarm clock?" he asked.

"Yes."

"What was it?"

"The alarm had been set for two o'clock in the morning, or perhaps a minute or two before two o'clock."

"The clock was running?"

"It was."

"Look at the photograph," said Perry Mason, "and see if the photograph, People's Exhibit B. shows the alarm clock."

"It does," said the witness.

"Would you mind pointing it out to the jury?"

There was a craning of necks as the jurors leaned forward and the witness, holding the photograph in his hand, pointed out the alarm clock.

"Might I ask to have the alarm clock produced now?" asked Perry Mason.

"It will be produced when we are ready to produce it," John Lucas remarked.

Perry Mason looked at Judge Markham. "I would like," he said, "to crossexamine this witness upon the alarm clock."

"The alarm clock has not been definitely brought into the case by the prosecution, as yet," Judge Markham said. "I think I will not force the prosecution to put on its case out of order. If, after the alarm clock is produced, you desire to examine this witness further, he may be recalled for further crossexamination."

"Very well," said Perry Mason listlessly, "I have no more questions."

John Lucas forged rapidly ahead. He called members of the homicide squad, members of the ambulance crew. He established the death of the man who had been taken from the apartment, introduced the poker which had been found in the apartment, with the gruesome stains of blood and the bits of hair adhering to the encrustations.

Perry Mason sat motionless, like some huge bear lying asleep in the sunlight and taking no notice of the circling approach of hunters. He asked no questions upon crossexamination.

Bit by bit John Lucas built up his case, and then he called Frank Lane to the witness stand. Frank Lane was a bright, alert young man of some twentyfive years of age. He testified to his name, address and gave his occupation as that of employee in a service station, giving the location of the service station and identifying it with reference to the residence of Rhoda Montaine. He was then asked if he had seen Rhoda Montaine on the morning of the sixteenth of June of the present year, and answered crisply in the affirmative.

"When?" asked John Lucas.

"At one fortyfive in the morning."

"What was she doing?"

"She was driving a Chevrolet coupe."

"Was there anything peculiar that you noticed about that coupe?"

"Yes, sir."

"What?"

"The right rear tire was flat."

"What did she do, if anything?"

"She drove the car into the service station and asked me to change the tire."

"What did you do?"

"I jacked up the car, unscrewed the lugs, took off the tire, unscrewed the spare tire lugs and put it back on the right rear. Then, when I let the car off the jack, I saw that the spare tire was nearly flat. I listened and heard air escaping from a small leak in the spare tire."

"Then what did you do?"

"I jacked the car back up, took off the spare tire and put in a new tube."

"Did you have any conversation with the defendant about the time?"

"Yes."

"What was it?"

"I asked her if she wanted me to repair the tube and she said that she was late for an appointment and that she couldn't wait. She told me to put in a new tube and repair the old one, that she'd call for it later."

"You gave her a ticket to serve as a claim check?"

"Yes, sir."

John Lucas produced a bit of numbered pasteboard. "Is this it?" he asked.